


It Takes a Village

by holyfudgemonkeys (erraticallyinspired)



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: (in the past), F/M, Family Feels, Gil and Jackie coparent with Jessica, Infertility, Jessica Whitly is a Good Parent, Malcolm Whitly becomes Malcolm Arroyo, Miscarriage, Selectively Mute Malcolm Bright, if martin ever finds out he's gonna be PISSED, the arroyos won't be replacing jessica fyi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21597796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erraticallyinspired/pseuds/holyfudgemonkeys
Summary: When Malcolm seems to reach a standstill in his recovery post Martin's arrest, Jessica comes to a decision.Aka, Jessica gives the Arroyos partial custody of her son
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Gil Arroyo/Jackie Arroyo, Jackie Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Ainsley Whitly, Malcolm Bright & Jessica Whitly, past Jessica Whitly/Martin Whitly
Comments: 37
Kudos: 154





	1. Two mothers and a father

Jessica wanted what was best for her children. It was all she’d _ever_ wanted since that first moment she’d known about Malcolm. In truth, she’d always loved her children more than her husband, though he had been a close second. Her love for them was the only reason she hadn’t started divorce proceedings when she suspected he was having an affair, because as hurt and angry and _influential_ as she’d been, her children — Malcolm especially — would’ve been devastated at the news and caught up in whatever fight ensued. No, she’d clenched her jaw and ignored it for them. If she coddled them more during that time, it was just because she was a good mother, _dammit_. 

She refused to let Malcolm be exposed to his father any longer.

She made sure to keep their faces and names out of the news, despite the fact that it was all in the old society pages if one cared to look.

She put on her best face for them and held her tears for after they were in bed.

It wasn’t enough. She was doing her best, and even Gil had agreed on that point, but she couldn’t control everything. Malcolm always was his father’s son first, and he was still a shell of himself months after the arrest. His therapist often reminded her to be patient. He was making progress, she insisted, sometimes it just took longer to work through trauma. It was doubtful he would stay silent forever. Jessica made sure to talk enough for the both of them in the meantime, reminding him constantly that she and Ainsley loved him.

What was arguably even worse was the school situation. She and Martin had gotten Malcolm into one of the best schools in the area, and he thrived there — normally. Now, though his teachers confirmed he was still just as hardworking as usual, he was alone. None of the other kids wanted to go near him. They were careful not to get caught, but the teachers suspected some of them were bullying him, too. Unfortunately, they couldn’t do anything unless Malcolm spoke out about it. Part of her wondered if some of them would do anything if he did. He just withdrew into himself further. His therapist, however, was worried that homeschooling him might just _worsen_ his symptoms. 

Jessica had the means and influence to get him into another school, of course, but she was all too aware that the Whitly name would follow him there. There was no guarantee that a new set of kids would not do the exact same thing. She could just change his name, sure, but she couldn’t bring herself to hide from the name she’d taken on, and it was unlikely they could hide their connection for long.

Which was why, although it pained her to do it, she had papers drawn up through her lawyer — a new one, unconnected to Martin — all ready to be signed by the parties involved. 

She left Ainsley with her nanny and drove to the Arroyo house.

When the door finally opened, there was a smiling woman behind it instead of the kind officer she expected. The woman was dressed in worn, soft clothes nothing like Jessica’s sharp dress. Her smile faltered as she realized who stood in front of her, but after the brief shock, it grew.

“You must be Jessica,” the woman said warmly. “Please come in!”

“I apologize for showing up uninvited, Mrs. Arroyo,” Jessica began, guessing who the woman was. She remembered Gil wearing a wedding ring. “Is your husband home?”

“Call me Jackie. Would you like something to drink? Gil should be getting off his shift soon.” 

She wanted a scotch, but that could wait until she got home. “A glass of water would be wonderful.”

Flashing her another smile, Jackie moved to the kitchen and filled her a glass. “If you don’t mind me asking, how’s Malcolm doing? Gil's been worried, but he didn’t want to bother you too much.”

Jessica cleared her throat softly. “Malcolm is why I’m here today.”

Her brow creased. “Is he okay?”

“As far as I know, yes. He’s at school today. However, I wanted to talk to you both about that.” She gripped the straps of her purse tight and swallowed. “Would you mind if we waited for your husband? I’d rather only explain this once.”

“Of course,” the other woman said softly. Without asking, she wrapped an arm around Jessica’s shoulders and guided her into the den to the couch. 

Jessica let her.

It took another seventeen minutes for Gil to arrive, and although the time was filled with small talk, Jessica was uncomfortably aware of every single second that passed. Did she _really_ want to do this? Maybe she could just let them know about Malcolm’s struggles at school and forget about the folder of papers in her purse. Gil would probably just think she was on the verge of another small breakdown, which she _was_ , admittedly, but he didn’t have to know exactly why she came. She could go home and have enough time to pull herself together before Malcolm came home.

No. She had to give them the papers. She knew deep down this was the best for her son, and that was all that mattered.

“Jessica,” Gil blurted out when he came in. His eyes widened slightly. “Is Malcolm okay?”

She gave him a smile, or at least what she hoped was a smile. “I’m here to talk to you and your wife.”

He shared a look with Jackie and sat down, not bothering to change out of his uniform. “What can we do for you?”

Her hands clenched around her purse straps again, but she forcibly relaxed them and pulled the folder out. Without a word, she slid it across the coffee table. 

Gil began reading, Jackie looking over his shoulder.

Jessica picked up her water and drained it, once again wishing it was something stronger.

“What _is_ this?” Gil’s grip mangled one side of the folder. “Jessica, you can’t—”

“Actually, I _can_. Malcolm is my legal dependant, and you’ll notice that I’m not signing over full custody. We would share custody — the three of us,” she said, looking at a silent Jackie. “It would be the best for him.”

“ _The best?_ ” Gil sputtered. “You want to remove him from his mother and sister, from his _home_ five days a week. I don’t want to question your parenting—”

She stood her ground. “Then _don’t_. I know you wouldn’t keep him from visiting when he wanted to, and as for the house, well he needs a break. Martin is _everywhere_ in that house.”

“It would probably be best for all three of you to move out.”

“ _I can’t_ ,” she shouted, and then the tears welled up. She dabbed at them angrily with her sleeve, not in the state to dig through her purse for a handkerchief or tissue. “That house is _mine_. It was mine long before I met Martin, and a Milton has always lived in that house. It would have been Malcolm’s, but, Gil, it’s _poisoning_ him. I suspect it will have to go to Ainsley now.”

Jackie, still silent, put a hand on her shoulder, and Jessica broke. Her sleeves couldn’t hold all of her tears. She let herself be pulled into the other woman’s arms, her face tucked into dark hair. 

“Please,” Jessica pleaded into Jackie’s shoulder. “ _Please_ , Gil, he trusts you.”

He joined them on the couch quietly. “Have you asked him what he wants, Jessica?”

She shook her head and detangled herself from his wife shakily. “He still isn’t talking. I can barely get him to eat. He’s barely there. Ainsley can get him to smile, but it’s rare.”

All three of them were silent for a few minutes. She suspected the Arroyos were communicating quietly over her drooped head. 

Jackie was the first to speak. “Why don’t you bring him over, and we can talk? So that he understands what’s happening.”

Gil nodded firmly. “I won’t do this if Malcolm isn’t okay with it.”

“Okay,” Jessica whispered and visibly pulled herself together as much as she could. “His school lets out in an hour or so.”

“Why don’t you stay in the meantime,” Jackie suggested, giving her husband a look. “I could show you the spare room. We figured Malcolm could stay there if he visited, but if we sign the papers…”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

In the end, Gil was the one to pick Malcolm up. Jessica planned for her driver to do so, but he insisted, because quite frankly, he felt useless at the house. Both women had quickly become engrossed in redesigning the guest room, and even though part of him yearned to put together a room for a son — _his_ son, if Malcolm agreed — he couldn’t bring himself to do anything without the boy’s acceptance. He knew Jackie agreed. She wasn’t letting herself hope, especially since she’d only met Malcolm once so far. Planning with Jessica was mainly to distract the poor distraught woman, though it also served to let them get to know each other. Jackie refused to replace her as a mother. 

Gil was waiting in the office when a teacher escorted the boy down. Malcolm was obviously confused until he caught sight of the older man. He smiled slightly and nodded when Gil asked if he was ready to go.

“We’re heading back to mine, kiddo.” He ruffled Malcolm’s hair as they walked to his car. “Your mom’s joining us for dinner.”

If Malcolm had any questions, he didn’t ask them. The car ride was silent but for the radio. Gil carried his bookbag up into the house. He slipped past an anxious Jessica, who eagerly pulled her son into a tight hug that only seemed to make the boy uncomfortable and confused. 

“Ainsley is fine,” his mother said after she finally let him go. “Nothing is wrong, sweetheart.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“Can’t a mother miss her only son?” She huffed fondly and kissed his brow.

Jackie smiled at the two of them. “Why don’t you two come in and get comfortable? Gil is starting on dinner.”

Dinner was quiet, too. Or, at least, devoid of any meaningful conversation. Jessica praised the food politely, and all three of the adults unsuccessfully tried to engage Malcolm in conversation once or twice, even knowing that he wouldn't respond. When he shook his head to decline dessert, Gil got up from the table to retrieve the folder. 

“I won’t pretend you don’t know something is happening,” Jessica told Malcolm. “You’re my clever boy.” She brushed an errant strand of his hair behind his ear. 

Gil set the folder in front of him. “When you’re done, we’ll answer any questions you have, okay?” 

“You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Jackie chimed in.

And they waited. 

Malcolm slowly scanned the pages in the folder, one by one. When he was finished, he got up and left the room, returning a few minutes later with a notebook from his backpack. 

_You want to change my name?_

“Sweetheart, I know you’re being bullied,” Jessica said softly. “It won’t stop as long as you’re a Whitly. I want you to have a good childhood.”

_Will Ainsley stay a Whitly?_

His mother closed her eyes. “For now. I don’t know.”

Biting his lip, Malcolm glanced at the Arroyos as he wrote again.

_Do you WANT to adopt me?_

Reaching over, Jackie gripped her husband’s hand. “We would love to, Malcolm.”

“If that’s what you want,” Gil added. “We won’t be mad if you say no.”

Malcolm nodded hesitantly and then turned back to his mother.

_Do you not want me anymore?_

Jessica paled and her face twisted up in anguish. “No, _no_ , Malcolm, you are my son. I could _never_ give you up. I just want you to heal.”

“Can I come home?” Malcolm croaked, speaking for the first time they knew of in months. “If I want?”

She sobbed and had him in her arms as soon as she could pull herself from her chair. “Of course, of course.”

And it was settled. Once the paperwork was filed, Malcolm Whitly would become Malcolm Arroyo.


	2. Trios

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Whitly family feels, and then furniture shopping

Later that night, after ice cream and quiet reassurances, Malcolm passed out on the Arroyos’ couch. Gil picked him up with ease and carried him out to the car Jessica called for, but not before promising to stop by the house the next day to iron out the arrangements. He brushed the sleeping boy’s hair out of his face. In a few short days, this boy would be his son. He and Jackie had dreamed of having kids for years — had even put together a nursery at one point — and while they never would have guessed it would happen this way, Gil couldn’t be disappointed. The look on his dear wife’s face as he carried _their son_ out to the car told him she was feeling the same way.

It didn’t matter that Malcolm looked nothing like them, that they hadn’t watched him take his first steps or say his first words. Gil had known the boy would be important to him as soon as he’d approached him that night in the Whitly house, and Jackie had cried tears of relief when he spoke to her about the brave kid who gave up his own father to save a cop he’d never met before. The only difference now was that Jessica was giving them clearance to be open and affectionate with him on a more regular basis. 

It wouldn’t be easy, however. 

Even though Malcolm had talked that night — for the first time in weeks — it was a once and done moment. He’d gone silent nearly as soon as he’d spoken, and that was that. The Arroyos weren’t blind. He could get better being away from _that_ house, but he could just as easily take as much time as he would have without the adoption. The only person who might have an idea of how it would go was Malcolm’s therapist. Gil made a note to ask Jessica for a schedule of appointments.

“Malcolm has a sensitive stomach, doesn’t he?” Jackie asked as he closed the door. She hummed before he could answer. “I’ll have to ask Jessica for a list of foods he can’t eat.”

He smiled softly and toed off his shoes. 

“Oh! Do you think we could get a phone for his room? I’m sure he would like to be able to call the girls in private.” 

Gil pulled her into a kiss. “I love you.”

She smiled radiantly. “I love you, too.”

Jessica thanked her driver for his patience while she tried to wake her son gently. He was such a poor sleeper now, so she wished she didn’t have to wake him, but she knew he would feel better if he had a chance to change and say goodnight to Ainsley — not to mention that he was getting too big for her to carry. It was a part of his routine ever since Martin’s arrest. Every night, before he could settle down, he would check in on both of them. Part of her felt pained over it, but mostly she understood. Not a day had gone by where she hadn’t done the same, if only to reassure herself that Martin hadn’t escaped and taken her children from her. It would be hard once he started spending the weekdays at the Arroyos. They would manage, she told herself, even if she had to offer to pay the couple’s phone bill herself. 

Malcolm’s eyes snapped open and he took a deep breath. She knew then that his sleep hadn’t been as peaceful as it seemed. She pretended not to notice, for his sake.

“We’re home,” she said quietly. “Your sister’s bedtime is in about twenty minutes, so you can say goodnight if we go in now.”

He nodded and got out of the backseat. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and he let her guide him into the house.

Her daughter came rocketing down the steps as soon as she heard the door open, clad in a small nightdress with bare feet. “ _Mal!_ I missed you.”

Patting her head, he bent his knees slightly until she got the hint and got up onto his back. 

Jessica knew he was tired, emotionally if not also physically, but she also knew that he needed this. “Why don’t you get her tucked in? I’ll be up for storytime as soon as I get changed.”

He gave her the smallest of smiles, barely there in comparison to Ainsley’s grin. 

She poured herself a finger of whiskey before climbing the stairs.

The next morning, she got up just long enough to get her daughter settled with the nanny and then went back to bed. It was shaping up to be one of her worse days. Her eyes were swimming in the tears she stubbornly held back, her chest felt unbearably heavy, and if not for her children, she knew she would stay in bed for the rest of the day. At least. For now she promised herself that she would get up for good as soon as Malcolm did. 

He slept quite a lot when he could, too, though he inevitably woke up screaming every few hours. 

(Part of her wished she had the nightmares, too. _Anything_ would be better than dreaming of Martin’s arms around her again, holding her so lovingly.)

She heard a faint crash and a scream shortly after ten, and she hastily pulled a robe on before running down the hall to his room. Unfortunately, it was no longer odd to hear loud noises coming from Malcolm’s room. 

Nor was the sight that greeted her once she got there — her son was huddled in the corner, weeping and gasping. 

“Breathe with me,” she murmured, kneeling in front of him and wiping tears from his face. “That’s it, sweetheart. You’re safe.”

He clung to her then. His fingers were crushing the delicate fabric of her robe, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. 

She cradled the back of his head. “Can you walk?”

He nodded into her shoulder and slowly pulled away, eyes trained on the floor. Instead of calling him out on it, Jessica wrapped an arm around his shoulder and led him out to the hall and over to the nearest guest room. Both of their rooms held too many memories right now. This, too, was a common occurrence now, and Malcolm silently crawled into the bed followed by his mother, who tucked the covers around them as well as she could.

Like clockwork, they were there for no more than ten minutes before the door opened softly to admit the third Whitly. Malcolm loosened the blanket just enough for Ainsley to worm her way in between the two of them. 

They stayed there until she demanded lunch. 

It was peaceful.

By the time Gil and Jackie entered the main hall, all three of the Whitlys were immaculate. Malcolm let the older man ruffle his hair but otherwise was silent. Ainsley, who hadn’t seen Gil more than twice since the arrest and had never met his wife, was quiet, too, though she smiled back at the couple when they said hello. 

Jessica handed her back over to the nanny before ushering the rest of them into the lounge. “Now then, down to business.”

They stared at each other.

“ _Well_ ,” Jackie started awkwardly, “I wanted to ask Malcolm what he would want in his room.”

“We wanted to get it ready right away,” Gil added. 

“But we didn’t want to just move his things, since he’ll still be here on the weekends,” his wife finished. 

Jessica nodded. “I’ll give you one of my cards.”

The Arroyos looked at each other.

“We wanted to talk about that, Jessica,” Gil said. “We don’t want you to pay for everything. If Malcolm is going to be our son, too, we want to take care of him ourselves — at least when he’s with us.”

She stared at them. It would be all too easy to point out the difference in their savings. “I don’t want to be rude,” she said slowly, considering her words before speaking, “but having a child is expensive. I never intended to leave you to pay for everything on your own.” 

“And we’ll gladly accept some money for schooling and food.” Jackie put a hand on her husband’s arm to quell any argument. “We have savings put away for something like this, though, and we _want_ to. I hoped we could take Malcolm out shopping today and have him choose some things for himself.”

Malcolm tugged his mother’s sleeve before she could refuse. 

“I can accept that,” she said reluctantly. “Speaking of schooling, however, I’ve decided to pull Malcolm out of his current school for the rest of the semester. It will likely take that much time to get him enrolled in a new school. I’ve already started the process. The school is closer to your house than his current one, and it is just as well rated. If you can’t drop him off or pick him up, I will arrange for a driver, but I insist we stick with this school. There are advantages to a private school that I refuse to deprive him of when I can afford it.”

Gil spoke this time. “We figured we would leave that up to you anyway.”

“I’m glad.” She paused. “Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?”

“Foods!” Jackie pulled a notepad out of her purse and began grilling both Jessica and Malcolm on what he could and couldn’t (or wouldn’t) eat. 

Gradually the rest of the tension in the room disappeared, and by the end of their discussion, Jessica was more than comfortable letting the couple take her son shopping. She kissed his temple and fussed with his coat before they left.

The drive to the store was quiet. Gil focused on the road, while Jackie’s eyes kept going to Malcolm in the rear view mirror, still processing that he was nearly their son now. Her mind was already racing to figure out ways to help balance out his diet or make him more at ease in their home. She and Gil had talked about painting the guest room even, though they hadn’t brought it up with Malcolm just yet. They wanted to make sure he knew it was _his_ room. 

He caught her eye sometimes and gave his best at a smile. 

“We’re here,” Gil announced as he parked. “You ready kiddo?”

Malcolm nodded.

Their list wasn’t too long, but they hadn’t put much effort into the rarely used guest room, and as a result, they needed to get some bigger items. A sturdier bed frame and a new mattress were at the top of the list. Gil had also suggested a desk for doing homework on. Thankfully they already had a decent chest of drawers. Jessica promised to have some of his clothes packed for them while they shopped, and eventually his new school uniforms would follow.

The quiet boy mostly let them decide on what to buy, and whether it was because he wasn’t sure what was in their budget or he was just being shy, they didn’t know. Eventually they realized that he was more comfortable if they gave him a few options to choose from. That way, he could still be involved. The only time they felt they needed to give him free reign was with sheets. 

“You know, we were talking about repainting your room,” Jackie told him, a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about matching the walls. Pick whatever color you want.”

It took him about fifteen minutes to settle on a deep, muted blue. He glanced up at the two of them to make sure they were okay with his choice, and when they smiled at him, he spoke up quietly. “Can we paint my room this color?”

“Sure, kid,” Gil answered. They made their way, as a family, to the checkout. 

Gil pulled into the driveway of the Whitly house a few hours later and, after they were all out of the car, crouched down in front of Malcolm. “We don’t want to replace your parents, kid,” he said softly. “You don’t have to call us anything other than Gil and Jackie. But we're here for you, okay? You have our number.” He pulled a candy out of his jacket, having purposefully stuck a few in his pocket that morning before they set out. 

Malcolm took it and nodded, blinking a few tears out of his eyes. 

“And we’ll see you soon anyway,” Jackie reminded him. “We have to paint your room, remember?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the positive response to the first chapter! I'm really excited to keep writing this fic, and I hope you like this chapter as much as I do :)


	3. the one where Ainsley refuses to be left behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They paint Malcolm's new room

Ainsley sat cross-legged at the head of his bed as he packed. Her favorite doll of the week was slumped against her side. She watched him go through his clothes, pulling out this and that and folding it neatly before slotting it into one of the many boxes on the floor. “What ’re you doing?”

He gave her a fond look at he folded another shirt. Their mother had sat them down after dinner the night before to explain the situation to his sister. No, he was not going away forever. Yes, she would see him every weekend. No, she was not an Arroyo, too. No, she could not have his room during the week. Jessica had laid it all out, and Malcolm had graciously let her cling to him for the rest of the night. Ainsley was young, but they made sure she understood.

She huffed.

(He hid his smile as he turned to grab another shirt.)

“But _why?_ ” 

It made him happy in a lot of ways to know that she was so innocent still. She was too young to really feel the effects of their father’s arrest. Sure, the parents of her playmates stopped all playdates as soon as the news broke, and she _was_ sad about it, but mostly she just adjusted in a way that he sometimes envied. Otherwise, she wasn’t enrolled in a school yet and therefore escaped the bullying and shunning he suffered. Many people didn’t even know what she looked like, since she was too young to go to most of the society events their parents had gone to, which meant that the nanny could take her out and no one would bat an eyelash. Their mother had become brutally efficient at making sure it stayed that way, too. 

For Malcolm, on the other hand, it was much too late. He was well known in their old social circles as the quiet, sweet, smart Whitly boy who trailed after his father. Post arrest, they took that to mean that he was just as messed up as Martin, or at least, he _would be_ , if given the chance. They encouraged their children to shun him. Worse yet, his peers were old enough to have heard and understood the news, and many of them took it a step further and began actively bullying him. Boys who were his friend a month prior delighted in kicking him when he walked past, telling him it was the least he deserved as the offspring of a murderer. Kids he’d never even spoken to before stole his things and insisted they were theirs. He often had new bruises, both physically and emotionally.

Not even newer students would interact positively with him. The name Whitly was like a brand on his forehead, marking him as The Surgeon’s son. A monster in the making. 

Nothing his mother could do helped, either. He had told a teacher about the abuse once. The man looked him straight in the eyes and told him to stop whining. Malcolm never bothered to try telling anyone else, and so nothing official made it to the office. The principal was honest when he told her they had no evidence and therefore no options. 

Changing his name would supposedly change all of that as well. If no one knew he was a Whitly, they couldn’t bully him for it. Right? He wasn’t so sure, but he felt grateful all the same that Gil would willingly give him his name. Gil was the only cop on the scene who treated him like a kid and not a suspect. He (and by extension, Jackie) was the only person outside of his family who actively tried to help him. 

Malcolm missed being a Whitly, being his father’s son, but he was so happy to be an Arroyo now that he often teared up whenever he dwelled on it too long. 

So he smiled at his baby sister and knew that she would understand. He didn’t smile that often anymore.

She pulled her doll into her lap and frowned. “I’ll miss you, Mal.”

He folded one more shirt and then climbed up into bed next to her and let her lean into him as if to tell her he wasn't going anywhere. 

“Is Gil your new daddy?” Her voice was muffled in his shoulder.

Tensing, he thought about it. Technically, _yes_ , Gil was legally his dad. They explained that to him, that Gil and Jackie would be his adopted parents, but his mom was still his mom, too. He wasn’t sure if he should call him dad, though. Gil said he didn’t have to, but that didn’t mean the man didn’t _want_ him to. Matter of fact, he wasn’t sure if he should call Jackie mom, either. He did like Jackie — she was always nice to him — but he already had a mom. 

He let his head rest on top of Ainsley’s and tried not to think about it.

When the Arroyos came to pick him up later that afternoon, Ainsley was still by his side. Jessica accompanied them and apologized profusely. “I’m sorry about this. She just refuses to let him out of her sight today.”

Jackie shook her head. “It’s no big deal,” she insisted. “She can help us paint his room. Maybe it will make her more comfortable with him moving in. We’ll bring them both back after dinner.”

“Are you sure?” Jessica looked between the two of them.

Gil nodded. “Try and get some rest, Jessica. We’ll take care of them.”

Although Ainsley was familiar with the cop, she’d never been over to the Arroyo house with her brother before. Malcolm’s time with Gil was always Ainsley’s uninterrupted girl time with their mother, which she _loved_ , of course, but she often wished she could go, too. She twirled around and took the house in. She paused to let Malcolm pull her shoes off.

“It’s _small_ ,” Ainsley whispered to him.

Behind her, Jackie coughed to hide the beginnings of a laugh.

Malcolm flushed.

Gil took pity on him. “Let’s get you kids into something less expensive,” he said as he climbed the stairs and headed towards Malcolm’s new room. 

All of the furniture was moved to the center of the room and covered liberally with plastic sheeting to protect it from the paint. They didn’t really have the space to move all of it out of the room, and since Gil fully intended on putting all of it in order as soon as everything dried, it wasn’t a big deal. There was a small pile of clothes resting precariously on what must have been a lamp under the plastic. It was an old shirt of Gil’s and a pair of sweatpants that must have once belonged to Jackie, judging by the size. 

He handed them to Malcolm and then frowned. They hadn’t anticipated Ainsley joining them and therefore hadn’t set out painting clothes for her. Her dress, while likely not the nicest one she owned, was much too nice for painting.

Jackie smiled at him from the doorway. She was one step ahead of him, an old cotton dress in her hand. 

Both sets of clothing were much too big for the kids. Poor Malcolm was swamped by the shirt, though thankfully the sweatpants just needed to be rolled up a bit in both the cuffs and the waist, while Ainsley’s feet just barely peeked out from underneath what was a short dress on the older woman. But they were ready to paint.

Gil cracked open the first can of paint and carefully poured some into some paint trays they set out that morning.

“Here sweetheart,” Jackie murmured, helping Ainsley coat the roller while Malcolm watched avidly. 

It was clear neither of them had ever done this.

And so slowly they painted the walls. Gil tackled the upper half of the walls, being the only one of the four of them who could reach the very top, while Malcolm dutifully followed after him and covered the lower half. Across the room, Jackie filled in the gaps Ainsley left behind with her haphazard swipes of the roller. Eventually they met, and Jackie and the kids sat back as her husband finished up the harder to reach areas. 

Painting clothes had evidently been a good idea. Ainsley somehow had streaks of paint in her hair and handprints on her borrowed dress, and Malcolm had a few smudges on his face from accidentally touching it with blue hands, not to mention a few smaller prints on his clothes from where she clung to him in her excitement. 

So when Ainsley asked about the can of white paint they had, too, the Arroyos weren’t hesitant to pop it open. It was technically for any touch ups to the baseboards, but neither of them minded once she explained that wanted to make sure her brother didn’t forget about her when he was there. Gil helped her coat the palm of her hand in the paint without dunking her whole arm in and then hoisted her up so that she could smack it onto the wall above where Malcolm’s bed would be. Malcolm did it, too, with a small amount of coaxing from Jackie. When he in turn gave her an shy expectant look, it was decided that there should be four hands on the wall. 

(Privately, Gil wondered if he could convince Jessica to add a fifth in time.)

After dinner, the Arroyos packed both kids back into the car, and Gil drove them back while Jackie headed upstairs to take care of the mess they left in the newly painted room. Ainsley was passed out in the back seat. She tired quickly after the fun of painting and the impromptu bath Jackie had to give her to get the blue streaks out of her hair. Malcolm sat up front with Gil, staring out of the window lost in his own head.

When they pulled in front of the Whitly house, the older man turned off the car and looked at him. “What’s on your mind, kid?” he said softly, careful not to wake up the sleeping girl in the back.

Malcolm quickly looked him in the eyes and then looked away.

“Malcolm?” Gil prodded gently.

“What do I call you?”

Gil’s brow furrowed.

“You said…” Malcolm paused and swallowed. “You said I didn’t have to call you anything different, but…”

The cop’s face softened with understanding. “I meant it,” he confirmed. “But if you _want_ to call us something else… I call my parents nanay and tatay.” He ruffled the boy’s hair when he looked confused. “They mean mom and dad in Tagalog. You don’t have to use them, though, Malcolm. Jackie and I won’t be offended.”

Malcolm nodded slowly. He didn’t know what Tagalog was, to be honest, but he wasn’t sure he could force himself to talk anymore that night. 

“Let’s get your sister into her own bed,” Gil said finally with a gentle smile. “She’ll sleep a lot better that way.”

As he stared at the ceiling that night, Malcolm felt guiltily envious of Ainsley. She hadn’t woken up once while Gil carried her up to her room, not even when their mother fussed over her as soon as they walked in the door. He, on the other hand, had been laying in the dark for hours trying to get to sleep but also not _wanting_ to. Experience told him that he would be dreaming of his father if he slept. He always did after days when he missed him a lot, and with the weight of knowing that his father was sitting in a cell while Malcolm was adopted by the man who arrested him… he wasn’t sure he wanted to fall asleep. He knew he could never tell him about the adoption, but still, he wished he could talk to him. Maybe if he could see him one more time, could talk to him and see how he was doing, the nightmares would stop. 

At least the ones with his father cursing him. The ones where he called Malcolm a horrible son. A tattletale. A _traitor_. 

He slept fitfully and woke screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand Martin's coming in soon. 
> 
> Also, I will unashamedly admit that the Tagalog bit is inspired by a couple of Numb3rs fics I read ages ago with Lou Diamond Phillips' character.


	4. the first hiccup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm's first night at the Arroyo's is eventful.

In the end, it took a week for Malcolm to actually spend the night in his new room. The first time they tried, Ainsley sobbed and wouldn’t go to sleep until he came back, and the Arroyos were understanding. The second time, Malcolm had an appointment with yet _another_ therapist earlier in the day, which ended just like all the others eventually did — with Jessica threatening to sue. All of them wanted to talk about _Martin_ instead of Malcolm. Sometimes they were interested in what kind of father he was. Sometimes it was whether or not Malcolm took after him. They always went too far, and her son was always worse off for a few days after. This time, the doctor had sworn to her that his chief interest was in helping, but he only lasted two sessions. Gil and Jackie were the ones to suggest Malcolm stay with her that night. 

This time, Jessica was determined. There were no appointments that day, and she had the chef make his favorite foods for both breakfast and lunch. At five in the evening, she packed her children in the car along with Malcolm’s bookbag full of his homeschool assignments. A good deal of his clothes were already at the Arroyo’s house. 

Jackie let them in with a smile, which Jessica returned.

“Alright, Ainsley, let’s say goodbye to your brother and let him get settled in,” she said. 

Her daughter immediately hugged him tight, and he let her, returning the embrace. He looked at their mother over Ainsley’s head with those big eyes of his. She looked back fondly and wound her arms around both of her kids. It would be a hard night for all three of them, she knew. Her youngest was intent on letting her brother stay this time, having been reassured _many_ times that he would miss her _very_ much, too, but there was no guarantee she would last the night, and if Jessica was honest, her chest felt tight at the thought of not having both of them safe at home. Even Malcolm was a little more somber than usual, though she knew he was also excited.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” she told him softly as she let them both go. “I promise.”

He nodded, and the Whitly women left. 

Jackie had Malcolm help her make burger patties. She showed him how much meat to use, how to shape it without handling it too much, how to make a dimple in the middle to prevent them from swelling up in the pan. He was gentle with the patties, and really, she shouldn’t have been surprised after getting to know him better, because Malcolm was a gentle boy. He clearly loved his sister and took care of her happily, though he was at an age where he would think she was annoying. (She suspected it had something to do with the fallout of the arrest.) Even with strangers, he was sweet. Jackie would never be able to forget that he put her husband above his own father and saved his life, despite not even knowing his name at the time. He was quiet and gentle and loving, and her heart swelled seeing him so intent on helping with dinner. 

When Gil came home, she nudged Malcolm out of the kitchen and dropped the patties into a preheated pan. Her husband hugged her from behind and kissed her temple before joining the boy — _their son_ , she always felt so light when she thought about it — in the living room. 

“How was your day, kiddo?” Gil smiled at him, actually invested in the answer.

The way that he held himself around Malcolm always made the boy comfortable. Gil never pressured him to answer verbally and was never annoyed when he told the truth, so he shrugged in response. His mom had done all that she could to make the day great, but for him, it just highlighted the issues he’d been having in a lot of ways. Most of the days when she put in all that extra effort were uncomfortable. Seeing the Arroyos, however, made him feel better. He’d seen them several times since they gained partial custody of him, but he had yet to spend a full night in his new room. 

He craved a night of not being a Whitly.

Gil dropped down on the couch next to him and ruffled his hair. “Me, too.”

Malcolm tilted his head.

“It was just boring,” the man reassured him. “No bad news is good news, but it means a lot of nothing to do.” He didn’t talk about how his superiors were reluctant not only to let him work the way he used to but also the way he _should_ after his promotion. They claimed he wasn’t trained enough yet for his new position. They avoided talking about how the press would vilify them if he hadn't been promoted.

“Burgers are done,” Jackie shouted from the kitchen. She grinned when she saw both her boys walk in together.

It was late. How late, Malcolm wasn’t sure, and he didn’t feel like moving to look at the clock. He was in a comfortable position now. Moving could make it worse. Regardless, he was sure that a significant amount of time passed since Gil kindly told him his new bedtime was coming up, and he was still unable to sleep. He changed into his pajamas and crawled into his bedding and closed his eyes, but none of it did a thing. 

Part of him was waiting for the inevitable, whatever that would be this time. Last time it was Ainsley missing him too much. She seemed pretty confident she wouldn’t kick up a fuss this time, but Ainsley was also his _younger_ sister. She might not be able to hold out. 

Or maybe the inevitable would be his inability to fall asleep in this bed. Maybe his body knew it wasn’t at ‘home’ and wouldn’t relax enough. Maybe he didn’t really deserve to be there anyway. Maybe the only place he could really live was his old home, with all the ghosts his dad left behind. Maybe —

He drifted off, somehow.

A short scream woke him.

Usually if he woke up that way, the shrill sound came from deep in his chest, ripping its way up through his rarely used throat. This time the sound was distinctly _not_ his own. He immediately screwed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to know what he did this time. His body trembled all over and he could feel the pressure of his tears sitting behind his eyes. 

“ _Jackie_ —”

Malcolm choked down a sob. _Of course_ it was Jackie. The scream had been too high-pitched to be Gil. His legs he didn't remember standing on couldn’t support him any longer, and he slid to the floor with a soft thump.

“I’m fine,” Jackie said. “I just — oh, Malcolm, _no_ —”

He tried to bury his head in his arms, but a set of large, calloused hands stopped him.

“Careful,” Gil warned him calmly. “You’ve got some shards in your hands, kid.”

It was only then that the pain in his hands and legs registered. He was hoisted up off the ground.

“Can you open your eyes for me?”

Malcolm did, guiltily, still not aware of the extent of the damage he caused to the room or Jackie. 

Gil smiled. His hair was a bit wild and the set of his mouth a bit tense, but there was genuine relief in his eyes. “C’mon, we have to clean you up.”

There was a broken lamp on the floor. Small pieces of it were scattered around, and some of them were clearly embedded in his skin. Gil was wearing shoes. 

The older man carried him to the master bedroom and set him on the edge of the bed. 

“How bad does it look?” Jackie called out from within the attached bathroom.

“He definitely has some in his palms.”

She leaned against the door jam and looked Malcolm over. 

“Jackie,” the boy in question whispered, trying not to cry now that he saw her again. She didn’t look hurt, thankfully, but she wasn’t smiling either. “I’m _sorry_.”

Her face fell. “Oh sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for.” She disappeared into the bathroom for moment before coming back out with a box of bandaids, some antiseptic, and a pair of tweezers. Settling on the floor in front of him, she gently took ahold of his right leg and began inspecting it starting with the foot. “You were having a nightmare,” she explained as she cleaned his cuts. “I didn’t realize you slept so deeply.”

Gil hovered behind her, watching both of them. 

“I’m sorry,” Malcolm repeated hoarsely. 

“Don’t be,” she said. 

“Mom lets me wake up on my own. I didn’t think.” His hands trembled in his lap. “I’m sorry.”

“Gil, honey, why don’t you go clean up that lamp?” She waited until her husband left to continue. “Malcolm, it’s not your fault.” She eased him into a hug.

He wrapped his arms around her, careful not to put pressure on his bandaged hands, and cried.

By the time she finally joined him, Gil had already swept the remnants of the shattered lamp up and deposited them into the hard plastic trash can they’d put in Malcolm’s room. 

He looked at her as soon as he realized she was there. “How is he?”

“Asleep,” Jackie answered. “He cried himself to sleep, so I put him in our bed for now.”

Gil ran a hand through his hair and sat on the edge of the bed. “Jessica never said anything. Just that he had trouble sleeping.”

“It might not happen every night.” She joined him. “Besides, we signed those papers, Gil. I’m _not_ going back on that.”

“Neither am I,” he said firmly and sighed. “I just wish it hadn’t happened on his first night here.”

“Me, too.” She kissed his cheek. “But besides a few minor cuts and a bruise or two, no one got hurt. We’ll get through this.”

Jessica was distraught. “He’s _never_ hurt himself or anyone else before.”

“I believe you,” Gil insisted. “But if his nightmares are getting worse, he may need a better therapist.”

“He needs _a_ therapist. I still haven’t found another one yet.”

“Try not to stress about it too much.” He paused and frowned. “I know that’s impossible, but we’ll make sure he knows it wasn’t his fault.”

“Good luck,” Jessica said bitterly, tiredly. “He’s gotten good at blaming himself.”

When Malcolm woke up for the second time that day, he was drowning in a blanket that was definitely not his own, and it took him a moment to remember where he was. Neither Jackie nor Gil were in the room. He wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. He swallowed and grimaced at how rough his throat felt. 

It felt like there were only two outcomes ahead of him — either they decided he was too much to handle, too risky to keep around, or they wanted to keep him. He knew which one he preferred, even if his brain reminded him over and over that they shouldn’t keep him, that he was a _Whitly_ , his father's son, really, and no amount of paperwork would change that. 

He flinched when he heard steps in the room.

Whoever it was sat on the edge of the bed.

“Malcolm,” Jackie said softly, “Gil left for work. I made breakfast when you’re ready.”

They were both quiet for a minute, not moving.

Rising from the bed, she made for the door but stopped just shy of it. “We’re not mad. It _wasn’t_ your fault, okay?” Then she was gone.

He followed a few minutes later. 

Gil came home during his lunch prepared to comfort his wife. He’d been hesitant to go to the station that morning and leave her and Malcolm together without talking about what happened, and surely, he thought, Malcolm would have felt too guilty to stay. Jessica would have sent a driver over right away. Jackie would blame herself.

Instead, they were huddled on the couch with a pizza box on the coffee table in front of them (half cheese for Malcolm’s stomach, half olives for wife) watching the History channel. Malcolm had a few napkins on his lap, and Jackie was smiling. 

“There’s a pepperoni in the kitchen,” she told him. 

Gil smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The holidays have been NUTS, and not necessarily in a good way, ugh. But I finally had time to sit down and finish this chapter! I've been planning this one since I first thought of this fic, so I hope you like it!

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been floating around in my head since the halloween episode, and I'm finally getting around to writing it! The next few chapters will likely be pretty close to this one time-wise, but there are going to be timeskips eventually. 
> 
> (Also if anyone is also reading A Minor Divergence, I am working on the next chapter... the latest ep has just not given me much to work with for that one, so I'm not sure how I want to proceed yet and if I will need to change my plans for the next chapter yet)


End file.
